


the Road to Sodom

by DoubtingRabbit, Lenticular



Category: Christian Bible (Old Testament), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bible Kink, Frottage, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Tentacle Dick, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubtingRabbit/pseuds/DoubtingRabbit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenticular/pseuds/Lenticular
Summary: Aziraphale's commissioned to find one good man in all of Sodom, and Crawly tags along.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	the Road to Sodom

Nisroch the goatherd sat on a rock. To be specific, since there were and are a lot of rocks in that area, the flattish gray one on the hill overlooking the meadow where the Five Roads to the Five Cities converge. Anyhow, Nisroch and his favorite goat, Keffa, watched as a group of angels milled about below. They had been  _ poof!- _ ing into existence at the signpost in winged ones, twos and threes for the past half hour and making small talk about the weather, unaware that someone other than God was observing them. 

Both Nisroch and Keffa thought it best to remain unseen and have their lunch as quietly as they could. 

They felt vindicated in their caution when a crack of blue-white lightning struck the ground near the signpost, revealing a moment later a very tall man in cloudy-sky-colored robes. A stripe of pale purple wove through the sash he wore. His appearance got everyone's attention, and even Keffa stopped mid-munch to watch him pretend to dust off his pristine linen and wait for the people to gather around him.

"All right, everyone! Are we all gathered? Good!"

"Excuse me, sir," said a woman with a stern voice. "We are  _ not _ all here yet."

"What? I said noon, didn't I? Everyone got the memo for noon?" There was a general murmur of agreement among the dozen or so other beings. "Everyone got the memo for noon. So why are we not all here?"

Just then, from down the fifth road, there came a crack and a hurried poof of white smoke. A beige-clad being all but ran down the road, fully drawing the strange crowd's attention.

But not Nisroch's. He was too focused on the crack forming in the rock to his right. Particularly, he focused on suppressing a few screams as a serpentine shadow crawled out from it, and as it took the shape of a man leaning against a different, taller rock.

Keffa acknowledged it with a calm bleat.

"He's late again," said the shadow-being, its close-cropped and copper-red curls bobbing with the slow shake of its head.

"You're late. Again," echoed the purple-sashed being, sounding much more irritated than Nisroch's new companion.

"Yes, oh," huffed the newest arrival, his (?) beige-and-ivory robes all haphazard. "I'm ever so sorry, I completely lost track of the time. But! Here I am, ready to serve."

Even from their vantage point atop the nearby cliffs, they could, all three of them, see the temptation on the leader's strict face to lecture Mr. Beige on the sin of tardiness and the importance of obeying very official memos. Purple Stripe bit back the temptation, then with a sharp breath, he addressed the host of angels:

"Okay! You all know the deal. As per  _ my memo _ \--" his eyes cut to the towheaded one, who looked away "--the Almighty Herself has commissioned us to take the Five Cities on the Dead Sea Plain back from The Enemy, for Her Glory!" He allowed them a brief cheer before holding up a hand to quiet them. "Everyone, everyone! Attention! Your command from Above is to spare no expense over the next two days in finding a single good human being in the Five Cities." 

He paused. His cheese-eating grin gave the host a chance to offer him a polite laugh of derision at the very idea that there would be a single good mortal in the region. They kept it short, so as not to flub Purple Stripe's punchline: "Which means that it should be quick work!"

He clapped, looking quite satisfied with his bon mot. "Of course, you're to show The Almighty's love and shower miracles along the way, as with any other heavenly business trip. Now, line up for your tablets with your mission directives."

Orderly, they fell into line in front of him, and collected their tablets (carved of some sort of gleamy ivory veined with purest ashes and distilled sunlight, as far as Nisroch could tell). He grimaced, trying to get a good view of what it could possibly--

"Marble." The shadow-being crouched next to him, making him bleat like Keffa in surprise, since he hadn't expected an answer to his internal question. "That's Calacatta Borghini marble, in fact. Wow, no expense spared for a genocide, huh, Gabriel?"

"What?" asked Nisroch.

"Never mind, you wouldn't understand," it said, waving a hand, and sending the goatherd back onto his bum. It transformed into an iridescent-black serpent and slithered down the sheer cliffs to the ground.

And now, far from the edge of the rocks where Keffa still chewed her mouthful, Nisroch could safely faint away.

\---

Keffa, who was far less prone to fainting than her herder, watched as the angels split off in groups of twos and threes and fanned out from the crossroads towards their various destinations. The black snake didn't bother with the rest; there was only one that he was interested in following. He waited until the road split off at the next fork from two other beige-y beings at the fork off to Sodom. After lots of "tah!"s and "take care!"s, and a flick of his forked tongue, it followed.

Looking up at the horizon and seeing plenty of shrubbery she could browse along the way, the goat decided to join the snake. She was used to the sound of human voices, the unending chatter of a goatherd with no company being her template, and so she paid no attention to the scene they made.

"Crawly!" said Aziraphale. "Whatever are you doing here?! I thought you said you had dark business to attend in the southern hemisphere!"

"Psh," said the demon, forming into his bipedal shape so that he could demur with a shrug and fall into the angel's pace. "Finished early."

"Early? Well, then, what are you doing back here, of all places?" As though Aziraphale minded the company on a lonely walk to accomplish a grim duty.

"I got the memo."

"So  _ that's  _ where that slippery little thing went!"

"You really should keep better track of your things," Crawly said, as Aziraphale nodded in embarrassed agreement. "Or, should I say,  _ my _ things."

"Begging your pardon."

"Finders keepers." Crawly spun the tablet on the tip of his finger, throwing off blinding sparkles in the sunlight. It distracted Keffa enough from the delicious shrub by the side of the road ahead to make her stop and stare.

"Come on, angel, like I was going to let a beauty like this go. We hawk this, and we could have enough silver for a whole weekend's worth of debauchery!" Crawly said, punctuated by dodges to keep the pretty thing out of his companion's reach. Aziraphale flailed and even got a grip on it, only to have it agiley snatched back into Crawly's black-tipped hand.

Keffa, bored with their antics, set on ahead to browse an outcropping of shrubbery.

The angel and the demon danced around who would hold the tablet for a few minutes until they caught up to Keffa. She was well into her mouthful of juicy leaves when Aziraphale tackled Crawly into the opposite side of the bushes. After a tussle full of grunts and "gimme!"s, the demon freed himself, tablet slipped down his robes where angels feared to traverse, and leaving Aziraphale in a righteous sulk.

"You know, you're really slacking on your great commission here."

"Whatever do you mean!? And if I am, it's your fault, you're the one distracting me!"

Conjuring up an uncanny replication of Gabriel's nasal voice, Crawly said, "You're to show The Almighty's love and shower miracles along the way." A stiletto smile slit his face, his voice returning to its normal molasses depth. "You gotta show me Her Almighty Love."

"You're hardly who Gabriel was talking about!" Aziraphale exclaimed, then jumped as Keffa voiced her agreement with a belch.

"Didn't specify, did he? Ooh, you don't think he's listening, do you?" Crawly asked, amused at the angel's wide and searching eyes. "Just kidding. You know he's schlepped back off to Heaven to finish up his Leg Day reps."

Aziraphale harrumphed, but when Keffa stuck her head through the thorny branches and bleated at the two beings interrupting her lunch, they both leapt to their feet, as if in the presence of the Trumpet Player himself. With an unsure glance at one another, they both settled down again in the shade, and the goat continued her quiet munching in the midst of the shrubs.

Crawly added, "Aw, don't be that way, angel. I'll share the profits, fifty-fifty. I even know a pawning tent that won't gouge us too bad."

"That's hardly what I'm thinking of right now!" Aziraphale fretted, leaning back into the shade and trying to calm himself. As the angel was close and smelled deliciously salty, Keffa licked a droplet of sweat from his cheek before going back for another leaf. "And a kiss from  _ you _ certainly won't help!"

"What are you talking about, angel? I didn't kiss you." Crawly rolled his eyes and leaned back as the coolness of the shadows as well. Keffa took her opportunity to add a little more flavor to her meal, licking just beneath the demon's ear. He sat back up, "So you don't need to kiss me back!!"

"I never!" Aziraphale said, eyes wide.

Keffa gagged on the taste of serpentine sweat, the sound an unearthly blat that made them jump to their feet once more.

Crawly burst into a laugh on seeing the goat's strangely-slitted eyes glaring up at him from the shrubbery. "Aw, what were you afraid of! It's just an old kangaroo."

"Goat," corrected Aziraphale, then slumped with a sigh. He stood, dusted off his beige robes and said. "Fine. Come along then, we've got to get to Sodom."

"Then I'm invited?" Crawly asked, scrambling after the angel.

"You're the one who knows where the pawning tent is."

\---

It was an experience to be yelled at in Canaanite, but Crawly took it in stride, yelling right back as he and the angel were forcibly ejected from a not-so-fine establishment. Only once they were out the door and in the deserted streets of Sodom did the demon look up and realise why.

"Oh," he snickered, "nearly dawn. You up for breakfast, angel?"

Later, he'd report this whole outing as him successfully outwitting and distracting an Agent of The Opposition, but really, Aziraphale was just pleasantly easy to talk to.

"Dawn! Already?" Aziraphale asked, much less comfortable with his frittering his whole night away in the company of a demon when he'd been given a very specific task directly from his superiors upstairs... But the sweet aftertaste of the wine was in his mouth and the warm humming filled his head, and so he added, "Oh, yes, please. I know a lovely little place that does a perfect mint tea."

"Oh, mint tea," Crawly said, genuinely pleased, "nice. I haven't had a proper mint tea since Ur."

Before Aziraphale knew what was happening entirely, he'd twined his arm with demon's and lead the way. Maybe it was because of the wine, but he always found Crawly to be such good company, and he could continue his search for a good man in Sodom in the full light of day, couldn't he? That's when they'd be out, anyway, wouldn't they?

Crawly let the angel lead the way, perhaps stealing a touch of his warmth, but well, if Aziraphale didn't complain, who was he to stop?

"So you never actually told me what you're doing in Sodom, once you find your good men," he said idly as they strolled along.

"Ooh, you know better than that," Aziraphale said, patting the demon's arm and leading him down a dawn-deserted path. If it bothered him to provide aid and comfort to the enemy, he didn't show it, only glowing a little warmer in the sunlight. "I didn't have that much to drink."

Crawly clicked his tongue. "Worth a shot," he said. Especially since Aziraphale absolutely did have that much to drink, but he held his wine a lot better than the demon had expected. "Well, I'll tell you why I'm here," he continued. "Teaching the people of this town how to take good care of themselves!" To the exclusion of anyone else.

"Teaching them to do your work for you, you mean," Aziraphale said, proving Crawly's assessment perfectly correct with the sass in his tone. (Angels were not supposed to sass, he was relatively sure of that.)

Crawly gave him a slightly impressed side-eye, but kept at his argument, "Free will, angel. I don't compel them to sin, I simply... nudge them and let them sort out the details themselves. Humans are a lot more imaginative than anything I could think up."

"So you tell me." It sounded to Aziraphale like one of his own very good reasons for keeping to himself on the mortal plane.

Still, he'd be a poor Messenger of G*d if he did not at least try to argue for his side. Nudging the demon down a side street along the way, he stood him before a great mural that showed the founding of the city of Sodom. A scene imbued with pride and celebration and joy. "They don't always use it for evil, though."

Crawly allowed for an appropriately respectful hush to fall over the conversation as he examined the mural; brightly coloured and ornate, a celebration of art on several levels as only humans could perform it.

Finally he said, "I think those two are fucking," pointing at two brightly-coloured figures who, he knew full well, were depicted tightening a rope together.

With an annoyed look and a roll of his eyes, Aziraphale said, "Well, who in this town isn't!?" 

Crawly laughed and nudged him. "Well, we aren't," he said cheerfully. Then, with a saucy wink, "Not yet, anyway. Besides, I'm sure there are lots of good, devout people in Sodom, obediently asleep in their beds."

He didn't know where they were, but the theoretical possibility existed.

"Not all of them, I hope. I'd still like that tea," Aziraphale said, easily glossing over the stark innuendo that Crawly liked to deal in as it made the tingle of the alcohol in his system burst into a vibration. He set to walking again until he spotted the courtyard throw with pillows and low tables. Less pillows than the last visit he'd made, it seemed someone had gotten grabby. Hmm.

Determined to ignore it, Aziraphale took a seat and offered the cushion next to him to his companion while calling for a couple of teas and some bread. When all was settled, he returned to their previous conversation.

"They don't have to be obediently in bed, you know. I'm certain he's a nice fellow!" he said, indicating the man bringing them their tea now.

Crawly sank back into the cushions like a snake in sand and smirked.

"Are you?" he asked in a way that was very polite and conversational, and as such implied all manner of tawdry things. "Are you entirely certain?"

The angel peered into the approaching man's soul, and, well, the man had a tendency to gamble away his wages instead of turning them over to his harridan of a mother... so he technically wasn't a good man. But if Crawly could make it sound worse than it was, wasn't that his demonic duty?

Aziraphale greeted him politely as he set out their tea with a wary eye and demanded payment upfront. The angel redoubled his efforts, tried to sift some sort of goodness out of him, reviewing his most recent deeds while fishing out some of the silver Crawly had handed him at the city's limits.

But, as the mortal walked away, Aziraphale sighed. All he'd found was that he would share the bread crust from his lunch with the village dogs; an act of kindness as much as it was one of convenience.

"No. I'm not. This place is awful, Crawly! I keep trying to see the good in these humans, but it seems to be merely coincidental! Even in Byblos, they don't light the homeless on fire for giggles!"

"I mean, I'd love to take credit," Crawly said idly, "but honestly, they were like this when I got here." He didn't mind telling Aziraphale; the angel was hardly go running to tell the hellish Head Office. He blinked - a rare occurrence - and shifted to look at Aziraphale as he reached for his tea.

"So why be here?" he asked, this time with genuine interest. "I'm assuming it's not for fun."

"You didn't read the tablet before we pawned it," Aziraphale observed and sipped his tea--at least the owner of the establishment hadn't skimped on the leaves used, though not necessarily a point in their favor. When the scalding liquid left a crisp-cold taste on his tongue he relaxed down into his seat as well. "Scouting and information gathering, nothing flashy. She--" he pointed up "--needs a little bit of research done on the area for a future project."

Crawly tried not to, but he still couldn't help a nervous glance upwards. Sodom suddenly felt a lot less fun when he knew She was taking an interest. (No grudges or anything, it was just hard to think fondly of one of the two reasons Crawly had been sent on an involuntary swan dive through the celestial spheres. The other reason, of course, was Her ex.)

"Oh," he said and sipped his tea. "'nother Tower of Babel on your hands?"

"Heavens, I should hope not. She did say 'never again' very specifically after the flood." Aziraphale did indeed hope it wasn't that. Babel had been such a tragedy. A marvel of engineering gone astray... he sadly set down his teacup and sighed as he caught a glimpse of their waiter pocketing his master's money for himself. "Sometimes I do worry, though."

Well, as long as there was an angel here, no towers were crumbling down just yet. Crawly raised his glass and tried for a careless grin. "Don't worry, angel; this is, for the time being, a hedonistic den of pleasure. Might as well partake when you're visiting, right?"

"I suppose you're right," Aziraphale found him saying yet again to the demon's proposition. "It's not as though there's a single place in the whole five cities that isn't wicked at its heart. Nowhere to search but there." He drained his tea, refilled his glass and then leaned across to do the same for Crawly, smiling as he asked, "What do you suggest, then?"

"Drink, gamble and fuck," Crawly said without hesitation. "S'what I've been doing, and also what I've been encouraging the citizenry to do. Again, not that they much needed my help." He leaned forward as well, got a touch too close to Aziraphale, and smiled in a way that had led a fair few humans astray already. "So. What's your poison?"

Aziraphale moved not at all away and said, "Well. We've already been drinking..." 

"And you don't strike me as a gambling type," Crawly hummed, and it was a fine thing that he managed not to hiss. "So tell me, angel, have you ever lain with the Daughters of Men before?"

Ah, and Aziraphale was a little disappointed that he had misread the remark from the demon...? No. Couldn't be. He stood and offered his hand to him to help him stand.

"Not after the heavenly edict," Aziraphale lied--he had not done so before the edict either. The fairer of the sexes was a wonder of God's creation, without a doubt, but he much preferred their letterwork to their romantic attentions. It wasn't that he hadn't dabbled among mortals, just that it had been very long since even a mortal man had piqued his interest.

Crawly hesitated, squinting briefly in an attempt to see better and make out the expression on Aziraphale's face. No good; he was too far away.

... ah, what the heaven. He took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. "What's on that ethereal mind, then...?"

"The third option," Aziraphale said, taking his elbow and leading him back down the street to find the inn he'd been hiding out in during the last trip to the city for a crate of scrolls. "Gambling, was it?" After all he'd always wanted to try it, and he had the perfect opportunity.

Crawly tried not to, but a small chuckle escaped him anyway. "It was, yes, but I rather doubt your pokerface. Have you told a single lie since you were given that body?" He didn't resist being let along, however.

"Yes," he said, a very awkward lie in and of itself. "I have. At least twice."

Waving a miracled-up pass for a guest at the innkeeper as he ducked into the back, Aziraphale let the demon into a tightly packed room (a lamp, a table crammed between a stool and a narrow bed, and filling in the rest of the space was a stack of shallow boxes that remained from his last stay in the closet-sized room) and locked the door behind him. Aziraphale had only gotten out two of the boxes before he realized that locking the demon in and the mortals out 'for safety's sake' probably looked silly on him as an angel, but then he removed a stopped jar of amber liquid from one and stopped caring.

"It's very sweet," he warned, placing a pair of very small cups on the table and carefully filling them, and then going about emptying the contents of the second box: a couple dozen light and dark flat stones, and a carved stone board engraved in a checkered pattern of darker scored square tiles and lighter unscored ones. Sitting on his bed, he took the cup, sipped it to feel the tingle renew through his physical body and gestured to the game.

Beaming, Aziraphale reassured Crawly, "This isn't hard to learn at all. No poker face required." 

Crawly considered the set-up and carefully sipped the tiny cup. And coughed. The angel had a sweet tooth, alright. It was like watery honey. "Well, then, teach me," he said hoarsely, setting the cup down.

Explaining the simple rules and movements of checkers, he handed Crawly his half of the pieces--the dark ones, of course--and laid out his own.

"What're we playing for? I don't imagine you'd want to gamble for coins."

"But I don't have much of value." Nothing Aziraphale would be willing to give away, and he'd spent most their coin on the night's activities. The robes he wore were a very fine shade of ivory linen, though ...

Crawly laid out his own pieces (he wasn't altogether impressed by the game; not enough openings for cheating), but still noted the glance Aziraphale made down at those fine, heavenly robes.

"Clothing," he suggested cheerfully. "Whoever loses, strips off a piece of clothing and gives it to the winner. Repeat until one of us is naked. Deal?"

"All right, then!" Aziraphale said with a smile, picking up a white piece and making the first move. Sure, there weren't very many pieces of clothing on his person, truth be told, but Aziraphale agreed nonetheless.

Crawly grinned, slitted eyes sparkling, and went right into it with gusto, or as much gusto as a demon could show for a game as straight-forward and honest as this one. Whoever got naked, it was bound to be interesting.

\--

Within a quarter of an hour, just as the sun started to float above the horizon and light the room properly, Aziraphale found himself down to one last piece of clothing: the turban which had been wrapped around his head, which now sat in his bare lap in a small pile. He looked a touch embarrassed, but it was more over the idea of losing to a beginner when he himself had been playing the game for several decades, than over any sort of immodesty.

Crawly, meanwhile, was smirking like the snake that had caught a mouse, and when he tapped aside one of his stones into a losing position, his expression of disappointment was barely convincing. "Oh, dear," he sighed, glancing at the embarrassed angel. "Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear; I think you may have finally cornered me, Aziraphale."

It was out of self preservation alone that kept him from blurting out that Crawly clearly had an opening to take (yet another) king on the opposite side of the board, but Aziraphale just barely managed not to and took the gift. He almost felt bad, though, taking the obvious win, but he hardly had much more to lose on his person.

"... you're not  _ letting _ me win, are you, Crawly?"

Crawly paused briefly in the middle of shrugging out of his black outer robe, golden eyes all wide and innocent.

"What? Why would I ever let an angel defeat me on purpose?" he asked, guileless as anything. The outer robe fell, leaving him in a tunic that managed to be both black and indecently transparent.

He sat back down and moved a piece in a way that was, perhaps, inadvisable, but not overtly so.

"Because you're being very facetious," Aziraphale said, but the slightly safer move--and one indicative of a beginner--made him settle back in his chair. Not that he felt better, but it did feel more correct. He chose a more aggressive move of his own, and as he glanced up Aziraphale misplaced the piece entirely when he saw the very model of lithe lewdness.

Crawly smiled at him brightly.

"I'm not sure you can put that piece there," he said, lounging more than he absolutely had to. Good to know that the hedonism of Sodom and her sister cities had not taken his edge off. His eyes flickered to the unwound turban in Aziraphale's lap, and he said, "Do you even have anything to hide under there, or are you just bashful?"

"Oh! Right, right," Aziraphale said, scooting it over to the legal spot and then looking down at his own lap. "Well, no. Not at the moment. Suppose I've become a little too used to human modesty..."

"Hm," Crawly said, moving a piece into a somewhat-hidden trap as if he was distracted. "Shame, that. Have you ever tried, you know, growing one?"

"Yes, of course," Aziraphale said. It had been all the rage there for a short while, and there had been an occasion or two with several mortals in the past, but... oh. Right. He glanced down under the turban--no he hadn't left it there from the last time, smooth as a riverstone. Certainly nothing to be ashamed of… So, why was he finding it so difficult to drop the turban?

Aziraphale distracted himself by moving for another king.

Crawly pursed his lips and moved a piece to protect one king and expose another.

"Now I'm curious," he said, and he wasn't entirely lying, "never seen angel dick before. Can you show me?" 

With his interest in winning renewed, Aziraphale kinged his piece with his next move and plotted an aggressive path to the piece that Crawly had left unprotected but the question rather distracted him. 

"I--" Could he show him? Aziraphale was certain there was no rule against it, nothing that he was aware of--and he would be aware of it. The rules of a physical body were quite different for angels and mortals, after all. "I suppose I could..."

"Lovely!" Crawly crowed, and nothing in his tone suggested that he was any less than sincere. He moved one of his pieces at random, far more interested in leaning closer, eyes wide and expectant. "Go on, then."

"Well, you'll have to win it," Aziraphale said, coyly snapping up one of Crawly's pieces and then looking up maybe a bit too expectantly.

"Sneaky angel," Crawly said, drawing the 's' out more than he'd intended. Well, enough; he stood and pulled his tunic smoothly over his head, revealing a lean body that, where the dawn sun hit it, gleamed with the faint pattern of scales.

Like Aziraphale, he had nothing to hide, and unlike the angel, he didn't try either.

Aziraphale's jaw did not drop, it didn't, but he certainly did stare. After all, the demon didn't leave a thing hidden as he coiled back up on the seat across the table, and, quite like himself, was completely smooth between his (much leaner) thighs. But there was plenty else to gawp at, and so he did.

"I, uh ... suppose I've won, then?"

Crawly grinned at him, half laying on the meager pillow. "I'm still wearing sandals," he reminded Aziraphale. "Besides, now I have something to play for too." He moved a piece, far more aggressively than before.

"Gracious!" Aziraphale said despite himself at the demon's move and truly did try to focus for his next; dodging Crawly's king but just barely and with no attempt to make a retaliatory move, he added, "You know that I have no more to see than you do now, right?"

"Oh, I know," Crawly said. Then he winked. "Right now, anyway. Don't back out of our deal, angel; if I beat you, you grow a knob." With that, he moved to take one of Aziraphale's kings, then smirked lazily at the angel. "Well, what do you know."

"Ah!" Aziraphale yelped as if he'd been stuck with a pin at the demon's sudden win.

Well, best to take his loss gracefully... he imagined something moderate and pretty in a shade of pearlescent pink; something appropriately angelic, he thought. His face screwed up in thought momentarily before he shook his head and he asked Crawly, "--any requests?"

Crawly raised his eyebrows, pulling his feet up to gather his legs under him. He pursed his lips in thought, then gestured. "Nice length," he said, "oh, and girth. Girth is the important part, you know, so something appropriately thick. Oh, and can you make it glow? Maybe like spots, like those fish all the way down at the bottom?"

His jaw did drop this time, and Aziraphale took a moment to imagine just what it was that Crawly described before shutting his mouth and bringing it into being; thick as his wrist and a length to match, a gently pulsing bioluminescence tipped the crown like a lure.

Crawly hissed in a delighted way and leaned in close to examine the end result better. It looked ethereal and deadly all at once, which if Crawly was to be honest (and he tried not to be), fit an angel quite well.

"Oh! That  _ is _ lovely!" he said. "C'I touch it?"

Aziraphale grinned; possibly not his best work, but if it impressed the demon, he could be proud. "Oh, yes, go right ahead."

Crawly didn't hesitate once he'd gotten permission, reaching out to run cold, dry fingers over the newly formed sex. The angel was very warm, which shouldn't surprise him, but it did. The cold touch to a naturally very sensitive area made Aziraphale jump in his skin, but not so much for the temperature of Crawly's skin so much as it was for the fact that it had been a very long time since he had any kind of sexual organ--bioluminescent or not, and he'd sort of forgotten how touchy the damned things were.

A whimper escaped the angel before he could stop it.

Oh, that was nice, Crawly decided. He liked that sound, always had. And he liked it even better coming from an angel, so he wrapped his hand full around the shaft and stroked.

His eyes rolling back in his head for a bare moment, Aziraphale choked on nothing and flopped back onto the cot against the wall.

Crawly allowed for another, leisurely stroke, then pulled his hand away. "Well, that's very well done!" he said cheerfully. "Even works right! But one good turn deserves another, eh? Have you any requests of your own?"

"But ... I didn't win," Aziraphale said still dazed and laid out across the bed. His hands clutching at the bare straw mattress, fists opening and closing as he thought it out.

"Oh, did you not want to see?" Crawly said, sprawling himself across the cushions on the floor. His voice turned sly. "Something else you'd rather see?"

"Oh!" Aziraphale sharply turned his head to look at Crawly next to him and gave it a little shake. "Now then, I didn't say that. Just that..."

"Just what?" Crawly needled him. "Can't bear the thought of setting eyes on a demonic dick? Would it besmirch your ethereal Principality's eyes?" He sounded nothing so much as deeply amused.

"No, no, no. Nothing like that," Aziraphale demurred. He then looked down the length of Crawly's body, bit his lip for a moment and volunteered, "It's just that I thought you wouldn't give it away so easily."

Crawly licked his lips, more an instinctual twitch than any real urge, but he still managed to make it look lewd. "Oh, do you want to gamble for it?" he said mildly. "Seems a bit too complicated, but if you insist..."

"I suppose that someone like you could ... bend the rules?" Aziraphale asked. He gave Crawly a flicker of a smile that had as much intoxication behind it as it did pure curiosity.

"Oh, angel," Crawly practically purred, "bending rules is what I do." 

With that, the demon shifted and focused, and what emerged between his legs bore a superficial resemblance to a dick, sure, but if it had been designed by someone with mirrored sunglasses and an entertaining array of piercings. It looked sleek and dark and, somehow, deadly.

Aziraphale, blinking in surprise, reached out to return the touch that Crawly had given him before pulling back like it might bite him. 

Knowing Crawly, it might just.

"It's ... okay if I touch it?" he asked, fingers still hovering in the air between them.

"I'm reasonably sure it's not venomous," said Crawly in a tone of voice that sounded like he would, in fact, be very amused if it were. Even so, he shifted closer to Aziraphale's hand.

Cleric-soft fingers ran hesitantly over the length of the near-gleaming cock and then lifted it up to look at the interlocking texture up the underside. He rolled onto his beñly--making Aziraphale all the more aware of the attention his own sex had recently received--and looked closer. Crawly hissed, but otherwise remained sedately in place. Unlike certain angels, he knew how to control himself.

"Is that normal, then?" Aziraphale asked, giving it a tug. "It looking like this, not the, ah, poisonous biting."

"Well, I try a little of everything," he said, and his voice only wobbled a little. "Humans, though, they get very touchy when, say, I try something with spikes or a forked head."

That the skin felt silky smooth and cool instead of the cold and wet he expected between his fingers, and he pulled back the demon's foreskin to check for any details he might have missed. Aziraphale was rarely anything if not serious in his studies…. And maybe a little mesmerized.

"Spikes, you say?"

"Huh?" Crawly said, rapidly losing his cool. "Oh, uh, yeah; like, you seen those fish that puff up when they're scared. Tried that once, scared the poor couple half out of their wits." He didn't sound particularly contrite, but then he wouldn't when he was distracted. "... I could show you, if you like?"

"Well, not right this minute, " Aziraphale said with a sobered up laugh and squeezed him tighter illustratively. "What with my hand being there."

Crawly squirmed a little and hissed again, something like a flush rising to his cheeks. "Wimp," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked, and perhaps it was the drinking, but the light in his eye seemed more one of competition now.

Crawly heard the tone, but didn't see the look; not his fault, his eyesight had never recovered from being a snake. So he smiled and said, quite clearly, "Wimp."

"Try me," Aziraphale said, grinning in unmistakable competition in the face of The Adversary. Well,  _ an _ adversary. It had to be in the angel's nature, he was sure of it, the way that low thrum ran through his lowest stomach. He gave another squeeze, and a pump.

... well! Crawly blinked - rare in itself - and gave the angel what he wanted. Three spines of sharp, prickly spikes grew up his cock, just big enough to nip at any fingers touching them.

They weren't sharp, like thorns on roses, but fleshy and Aziraphale only pricked his hand where he squeezed and so he didn't squeeze--instead, he traced fingertips down each row of spikes one at a time, feeling over the tip ever-so-carefully.

Oh, that just made everything worse, going from warm pressure to teasing little touches, so Crawly decided to change tactics. He tilted his head at Aziraphale and hissed, "Ssso not the Daughters of Men for you, but rather the Sssons?"

"Is it that obvious?" Aziraphale asked with a strange mix of bashfulness and pride. (Michael said it was, but what did Michael know, anyway?)

Crawly nodded and smirked. "Cuts down on nephilim, I sss--" He cleared his throat. "Suppose." Shame, too; the nephilim had been a blast, back when they'd been around. "So, how many?"

With a faraway look on his face, Aziraphale ticked off his lovers on the fingers wrapped round Crawly's stygian sex. "Seventeen? I think."

Which was actually more than the demon's personal score, but he didn't let the surprise show. Instead Crawly shifted closer minutely, voice dropping, "And what did you do to them?"

The plasmafire in his blood that Aziraphale originally attributed to his physical body's reaction to the alcohol was becoming, more and more, not the alcohol's fault. The way Crawly's voice hit his ears made him flush more than anything he'd sipped that evening, and that slither closer triggered him into action.

"Not to, dear. With," Aziraphale said, breathy. His hand slipped from around Crawly's sex and settled on his sharply carved hip. "Here. I'll show you."

And with that, the angel drew both their hips together until he could feel the spines starting to bite into his own skin. Crawly made a low, startled hiss, managing to straddle Aziraphale's lap before he tumbled over in an unbalanced heap. He coiled his arms around the angel's shoulders (at least he was close enough now to see his face) and raised his brows expectantly.

"Ah. So you know already," Aziraphale said with a smile, carefully wrapping both of his hands around both of their sexes and--ever so gently--pressing them together with a pump of his fist. The angel did not so much focus on Crawly's face as he was on the way the soft blue glow and the beginning of the sunrise made his cock as prismatic an oil slick.

"I've been around myself," Crawly said, and his voice didn't wobble at all. "Temptation and all that; got a job to do." He told himself he was doing that job by leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale's mouth.

His stomach bloomed heat at that kiss. Crawly's lips and hips both touching his seemed to close a circuit that made him jitter; his hips rolled not entirely of their own accord and he yelped as a spine bit a little deeper into his thumb than he'd been prepared for. Crawly snickered against his cheek.

"Sssorry," he hissed, sounding not at all sincere. But nor did he pull away, pressing for another kiss.

Instead of the angel's parted lips, Aziraphale's pin-pricked thumb was plunged into his mouth.

"Would be very gracious of you to fix it for me," Aziraphale said, and my he sounded much more throaty than he'd been planning on. He held the demon's gaze with no malice, his unharmed hand pressed their respective sexes together with much more care.

Crawly's lips didn't lose their smile for a moment, and his tongue coiled around Aziraphale's finger as he sucked at it (the blood tasted bitter, but the wound was healed immediately, so it was little concern).

Aziraphale laughed at the healed pad of his finger like it was the best joke he had heard all week, then immediately brought him down for the kiss Crawly had originally intended. Crawly himself couldn't help laughing in return, although he managed to keep it to a more dignified chuckle--barely--and pressed into the kiss with a bit more teeth than he'd planned. He didn't yelp, in fact, this time the bite wasn't even surprising. But, with a roll of his hips and the barest hint of the edge of a spine dragging along his own imaginative sex, Aziraphale did give Crawly a hiss he could be proud of.

That earned the angel a harder bite, and Crawly dug his fingers into Aziraphale's shoulders as if he wanted to claw him. He did, sort of, but kept himself in check. There had to be something wrong with the way it felt to have the demon's sharp teeth sparking hot pleasure up and down his spine, Aziraphale thought to himself, as he'd never felt the like. He decided to think on it later and the angel thumbed over the crowns of their cocks with fascination over both their reactions.

Crawly jerked his hips forward, only halfway willingly, nicking the angel's fingers once again. He wondered briefly if he should feel bad, and then decided not to. For one, he was a demon; for another, Aziraphale had requested it himself.

It really had been his own fault, Aziraphale knew that from the way the shiver spiraled up through his stomach and struck his lungs, drawing all breath from him. The nip of pain drew him back to focus again and he gave Crawly a disapproving look that was becoming habitual.

"What? You asked for them," Crawly said, not in the least contrite. In fact, he seemed pleased to be getting that look at all. "If you want them gone, just say so. Or any other requests...?"

"What's, ah ... the popular model?" Aziraphale asked, breathless and perhaps a bit too distracted by narrowly avoiding being impaled on one of those thorns to be thinking up anything original himself.

Crawly lit up, despite the distractions, "Oh, that's tentacles," he said. "You know cephalopods? The wiggly legs they have? Humans go crazy for those."

Aziraphale's eyes widened and sparkled with a smile that didn't make it to his lips. " _ Really _ ...? "

So did angels, apparently. Crawly leaned in for a kiss, and in Aziraphale's hand, his sex shifted, grew longer, wrapped around the angel's wrist, nast little spikes turning into suckers.

Aziraphale's mouth went slack under the demon's as Crawly finished his transformation and he murmured a, "Gracious." against his lips.

The hand that encircled both of their sexes came to focus entirely on the tentacle, fingers testing at the suckerpads and absorbing the change in texture and firmness. Crawly hissed against his lips, hips rolling lazily forward and his newly grown tentacle coiling its way up Aziraphale's arm, siphoning his heat.

"Yesss," he said before he got his hiss under control, "very popular with humans."

Testing the strength of the suckers with gentle fingertips, Aziraphale's mind worked overtime through all the distractions and sensations he was inundated with, and he finally came to the conclusion that he would very much rather the demon's cock to his own hand.

Without a word--and an over-abundance of trust, perhaps--he detached himself from Crawly's sex and wrapped it round his own. The pressure alone was enough to make Aziraphale moan.

"Clever angel," Crawly breathed, the tentacle undulating over Aziraphale's sex.

"Hmm?" Aziraphale groaned, lost in the sensation of the demon's sex slithing against his own. 

Then Crawly bit at his lip in a sharp kiss and he strayed entirely off course, whimpering and nipping back in return. This was much better than anything Crawly had hoped from an angel, and he made a happy sound at each nip he got. He all but coiled himself around Aziraphale, lanky arms clutching at much less lanky shoulders.

Hands now freed up by Crawly's wonderfully self-sufficient sex, Aziraphale was left to revel in the sensuality. He ran his palms up that wonderfully wrought body, all bone and muscle just beneath cool skin that warmed to his touch, and a mouth that tasted like metal and fire and sickly-sweet alcohol.

And to watch the tentacle at work was really a marvel! The way it moved with a mind all its own and greedily absorbed the light the tip of his own gave off was amazing. Soon, the angel was gasping, writhing and leaking... and above all completely lost to the sensations of a physical world. The tentacle withdrew, lingering as if to absorb that much more heat, and Crawly nipped hard at Aziraphale's lip.

"Come now, angel," he panted, "keep it together. You can do better than this, can you not?"

"No," Aziraphale said, dreamily. Then shook his head, unsuccessful in clearing it with the action, he continued in a stammer, "I mean, yes. That is, I mean, what's ... ah... what's better than this?"

Crawly grinned, all teeth and flickering tongue. "Well," he purred, "can't you think of a better place to put that?" as he ran cool fingers over Aziraphale's cock.

"C-can't think much at all, I'm afraid," Aziraphale said, his breath catching on the truth he admitted, he added, "Ah, that's so good--" with Crawly's lips unavailable, he chewed his own.

_ Good _ ? Crawly was no fool (wouldn't have survived Hell if he was), and he knew his touch was cold and raspy-dry, 'good' was not a reaction he was used to. So he ran his fingers down the shaft. Aziraphale's eyes rolled back in his head, the way the tips of Crawly's fingers caught on his skin highlighted the delightful touches making him near-mindless, and completely unaware of the phosphorescent blue light emanating from the tip and along certain veins pulsed brighter and dimmer in time to the throb that ran through his whole body.Crawly made a noise in the back of his throat, nearly a growl, and shifted off Aziraphale's lap only to duck down and swallow the angel's cock to the hilt with little fanfare.

"Oh, G-" and Aziraphale cut himself short--calling out to Her might have just enough emphasis at the moment to get Her, very personal, attention. He put his knuckle between his teeth and basked in that slick constriction around his sex.

Crawly nearly froze himself, at least until he realised that the angel had, in fact, stopped short of bringing down some very unwanted attention. He had the vague idea that being kicked straight back Down for canoodling with a Principality would hurt a fair bit. Relieved, however, he went right back to what he was doing, dragging his lips slowly up Aziraphale's shaft.

The demon's mouth was barely warm, but it made Aziraphale ignite. The hand not currently between his teeth fisted in the threadbare blanket beneath him to keep himself from losing his control. That was nice, Crawly decided, an angel squirming at his mercy. He pulled free, only to swirl a two-pronged tongue around the luminous head.

Wordlessly--well, speechless-ly, to be perfectly truthful--Azirapale sat up and shook his head. He unwound his hand from his blanket and grabbed Crawly by the hip; he'd finally had an idea, and it was a doozy. Inspired by the demon's earlier question, he had in fact thought of something that would keep his mouth occupied and be a better use of Crawly's time. Shifting his body around on the bed, he returned the favor by sinking his own mouth around the tip of the tentacle, his tongue exploring where his fingers had earlier left off.

"Wha'?" Crawly blurted, not entirely sure where this latest manhandling was going, at least until a sun-warm mouth closed around the tip of his undulating sex. "Nn," he said, and sucked Aziraphale down again.

Keeping his mouth busy seemed to help with the Taking Her Name In Vain part, and Aziraphale tried not to think about what other sins might be implicit in sucking on the very prehensile sex organ of a demon straight from Hell. Crawly should have been thinking gleefully about exactly what worried Aziraphale, but all he could focus on was wet heat on his sex, and warm velvet on his tongue, and his lanky hips gave a needy little jerk.

Aziraphale whimpered around the tentacle as it slithered into his mouth and down his throat and he swallowed to accommodate him.Thank heavens that breathing was optional for him! Oh, yup; no human had yet managed that. Crawly made a choked noise and swallowed Aziraphale down in turn, fingers digging into the angel's hips.

After all the awfulness of the city around him, the angel was more than happy to throw himself fully into a bit of pleasure. But, sunk into an ouroboros of indulgence, Aziraphale did not notice just how close he was until it was nearly too late. Pulling back with a wet gasp, he panted out, "Wait, wait! I'm--"

Crawly, on principle, did not swallow, so he jerked back hard, pulling as far away from the angel's cock as he could in the cramped space (not very far at all). "What?!" he demanded stupidly, knowing very well 'what'.

_ Pathetic, really, _ Aizraphale thought to himself; outloud, of course, he sounded like a fool, wailing and carrying on as he came. Even with his fist crammed into his mouth. It was a good thing nobody in Sodom gave a hot damn about such sounds or they'd have a pounding on the wall at the hour it was--and with the sun up and everything!

When the angel finally looked up again, he saw his spend pulsing in the same rhythm and the same white-blue as the tip of his cock just above the false indent of his navel. He gave the demon a breathless smile. He was on the verge of paying Crawly a compliment on his performance when there was a sharp, precise knock at their door.

Aziraphale sat up and, breathlessly, called out, "Yes?"

From the other side of the thin wall came the disembodied voice of Gabriel himself. "Aziraphale?" Another three neat knocks. "Are you in? I'm here for our scheduled appointment for sexual congress!"

The angel gave a supersonic squeak and threw the one thin blanket in the room over a perturbed and terrified Crowley, leaving a serpentine shape on the cot behind him as he ran and fumbled the doorknob.

"Hm. Dressed the part, I see," Gabriel said after taking in Aziraphale's nude body, entering the room and taking a seat. "Why does it smell like frustrated seawater in here...? Nevermind. How goes your search, Aziraphale? Found a good mortal yet?" He slapped his knee and laughed at his own joke, then stared seriously at his fellow archangel.

"No," Aziraphale said. "But I've only had the one day!"

"You do have another day. But don't tax yourself, not like these monkeys know how to control themselves without specific instruction," Gabriel replied, moved to pat Aziraphale's knee and then thought better of it. "Well! I ought to get going! Leg day, you know. Keep up the good work!" And with that, the archangel general disappeared.

Crawly threw off the blanket and sat up glaring at Aziraphale, who suddenly seemed very inspired by his original commission--and not at all interested in repaying the favor of an orgasm.

"I have twenty-four hours to find  _ one _ good man in all of Sodom!" he said, fingers twisting together nervously.

"I'll remind you, I haven't gotten off."

"But I only have twenty-four hours!" In a fit of anxiety, he started for the door.

"Clothes, angel. Your clothes."

\--

Aziraphale managed to get himself dressed and decent before hitting the street to continue his search, followed by a sulky Crawly. But by midday, even among the milling crowds in the market and in nearly every shop, restaurant and homestead they stopped by, there was not one good and pure soul to be found. In every corner of the city there were cheaters, liars, blasphemers and thieves who would sell their own children if they thought it might benefit them.

"They can't even queue up properly!" he wailed to Crawly as they took a seat on the edge of the fountain in the main town square, nursing a bruise to his ribs from an angry elbowing at lunch.

"Yes, yes… I know," Crawly said, his voice full of cold comfort as he patted his distraught companion's shoulder. He was about to remind Aziraphale that he was sure that being a selfish lover was some sort of sin when he noticed that the angel's demeanor had changed. Sky blue eyes narrowed in fascination, Crawly followed his gaze to the sight of a bearded man of middling years praying over his afternoon snack across the square, under the shade of a date palm.

"That might be it," said Aziraphale, barely daring to hope, as he stood and drifted towards him. Following after, Crawly found he could sense no basic mortal indecency in the man and cringed. This was going to drag things out far longer than he'd hoped. Goodie.

"Hello, sir? Sir?" Aziraphale called, waving politely as he came up on the man. "Are you … are you praying there?"

"Yes..." said the human, swallowing the rest of his fruit whole, as if the beige-robed ponce might snatch it from him. "Why?"

"It's just so wonderful to see a good Man of the Lord here, of all places!" Aziraphale gushed, taking a seat across from him. "What is your name, good sir?"

"Lot, son of Haran" he replied, then looked up at the dark figure that stood over Aziraphale's shoulder. "And who might you two be?"

"I'm Aziraphale," he said by way of a more detailed introduction. "And this is my, ahm--my compatriot, Crawly."

"Both Men of the Lord, are you?" Lot asked, finishing off his flask of water and tucking it away in his sash. 

"Yes!" Aziraphale said. Crawly scoffed, but otherwise kept his objections to himself.

"Well, then, as fellow Hebrews, you're welcome to come home with me, if you like." Lot gestured down a street to his right. "I can have a kosher supper made for us all, and somewhere for you to sleep."

"Oh, I don't think that's going to be necessary," said Crawly, only imagining what the home of a good Man of the Lord would do for his libido. "We'll stay in the square here."

"In the square!? Certainly not! It isn't… it's not safe, you understand. You'll come with me."

"That's so very kind of you," said Aziraphale. 

Lot stood and Aziraphale joined him. Crawly's lip curled.

\--

Kosher suppers, it turned out, were not so bad. Certainly there was plenty of wine to go around, and Crawly put all of himself into throwing a drunk.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was besotted with the whole place. It hung wall-to-wall with reminders of G*d, and his wife and daughters were everso pious. Lot himself seemed flawless, answering to his moral aptitude. He treated his family well, was generous and hardworking, and even had relations that were quite well-connected through the Hebrew tribe.

He kept on grinning at Crawly as if his job was already done. Then, there was a knock at the door. More of a pounding, really.

The door shook in its frame and it quickly became clear that there were more than a few of the citizenry outside it. They called through the heavy wood, "Lot! Lot! We saw you bring them to your home!"

Lot looked as if his supper was coming back up, and his family sat frozen at the table. 

"Whatever could that be?" Aziraphale wondered.

"Lot! Send them out! Time for an initiation!" they called, the door still rattling. A salacious voice among them added, "The chubby one had a real fine rear!"

Lot shuddered in embarrassment. The angel gasped.

Crawly was  _ enthralled _ .

"Oh, dear," said Aziraphale. He looked from mortal to door to demon, and back again.

"Send them out! Send them out!"

"What're we to do?" the angel asked.

"Don't look at me," Crawly said, unable to hide his sharp smile. "I wanted to stay in the town square."

But Lot seemed ready for the situation, and he stood in front of the door, pressing down on the bar to keep it solidly shut and called back, “Brothers, please, don’t be vile! Look, I have two daughters, virgins! You can take your pleasure with them, but don’t touch these men—they’re my guests.”

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," said Aziraphale, wringing his hands at how wrong he was over Lot's inherent goodness.

He needn't even look at Crawly to know how he felt; he could feel the smugness radiating off the demon. Especially as the crowd shouted down the suggestion and insisted upon the two men he'd taken home with him.

Lot turned back to the room of disconcerted family and guests. The angel stepped forward and put his hand on Lot's shoulder, saying, "I have some very bad news for the fate of your hometown for you." 

All whilst Crawly rubbed his hands, summoning up all the powers of hell he was allowed to send a blinding hellfire light through them all.

\--

Lot and his family packed light and headed out immediately, heeding the warnings of the angel (who, while not convinced any longer of Lot's goodness, found it rude to subject Lot's daughters to a burning fate thanks to their father). All this before Aziraphle and Crawly picked through the confused and concussed mortals outside and went the opposite way, straight for the city limits.

Back out on the road again as night fell, they sat upon the same outcropping of rocks they had occupied two days earlier and sullenly watched the sulfur fall through the darkened sky in streaks of angry red, smoke billowing up all around the Dead Sea.

"Well, I guess that's that," said Crawly, indicating both the city and the previous night's antics.

Even if Aziraphale wasn't utterly broken at having done such a poor job at saving the Five Cities, he was certain the smell was a mood killer.

**Author's Note:**

> HEAVILY influenced by the 1942 film, "The Road to Morocco".


End file.
